Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a
silver braid.

the silvery sands of the hour-glass sift backward through its curves , as surely as the shape of myself shifts beneath the skin ; glacial melt with fogged clouds of shade , flecks of silver and gold between ; the hands of time care not for thee ! it frees you from its frayed net ; the cautious deer steps backwards into the hoofprint already made, lifts its heathered head and continues on alive to breathe on still